After Mockingjay
by ShadowAngelDemon
Summary: Post Mockingjay. Pre-Epilogue. Ever wondered what happened to Katniss between then? Brutalized, scarred and broken after the last book, Katniss remains to live her life in ruins. Believing that somehow, life can go on, no matter how bad the losses.
1. Chapter 1: A Proposal

**Firstly, I would like to start off with saying "hello" to everybody who has clicked on this story. I am really glad that you have decided to read this. **

**Okay. So, like you read in the description this is a continuing of Mockingjay after the last chapter, before the Epilogue. It's basically all of the stuff in between. Hopefully it will suffice your need for more KATNISS and PEETA. **

**I tried my best with the writing. My writing style is different from Suzanne Collins, so it might sound a little different. I tried to mimic it as much as possible though. **

**And as a final word, please enjoy. This is merely for fun reading/writing. Please respect my ideas and no slamming. Also, it would be fantastic if you review this. If you like it, suggest it to other Hunger Games fans, and tell them to post their reviews too. But, you don't HAVE to. Seriously. **

**Have fun, and enjoy! **

After Mockingjay.

Chapter One: A Proposal

I sit out on the porch of the District 12 house I call home. The sun is fading in the distance, making orange and pink light dance across the horizon. A bright glow surrounds the trees in the Meadow and forest Gale and I used to go hunting in. Now it was just me who hunted. Alone.

A sudden movement below me snaps me out of my reverie. I gaze down to see Buttercup slinking up the porch steps, his fur matted, those beady eyes I despised so much staring up at me almost innocently.

"Stupid cat," I say, reached out to pat his coat, but he dodges out of the way, hissing. I try not to feel responsible for his behaviour.

Of course, Buttercup is the only tie I have left to Prim, other than the emotional ones that keep me revisiting her death in my dreams.

Just thinking about her causes me pain. I push back those memories, although it is hard. I try to stare at the sunset, but the colors just remind me of flames. And that it possibly worse than the memories.

The girl who was on fire was reduced to nothing but ashes.

"Katniss?"

A tentative voice spoke behind me, causing me to turn. I already knew who it was, but just seeing him made it better.

Peeta's form was also outlined in a silhouette of golden sunlight, making his blonde hair shine like a halo. He looks like and angel, except an angel wouldn't be that scarred. Patches of burn skin still shine on his arms, but healing well. Scars ring his collarbone and face. I shift over so he can sit beside me.

And he does. "Are you okay?" He asks.

"Yes," I answer. "Are you?"

He manages a smile, something I haven't seen on his face in a while. "I'm alright."

I know this is a lie. I know he is still suffering from the memories of when he was at the Capitol. When they infused Tracker Jacker venom with his thoughts of me. He is far over that though. But I also know it is a scar that will never heal.

I think for a moment. During the time I had spent out here on the porch, an idea had formed in my mind. But I didn't speak of it yet. Just the thought of it made my stomach twist with anxiety and worry.

Instead I rest my head on his shoulder in an attempt to quell the nervousness. Something I would have never done before.

Peeta seems to realize this. "You should get out. Hunt. With Gale."

My stomach clenches at the mention of Gale. I hadn't spoken to him in months, and I know he either must be worried or too distant for me to handle.

The only thing that doesn't worry me was the way that Peeta said Gale's name. If it had been only a couple years back, I knew that it would be tinged with jealousy. But now, it only holds a mutual respect and worry for my own well-being. Peeta knows that I will never be with Gale. Because I'm in love with Peeta.

"Maybe," I answer vaguely, but my stomach is still in knots. I wonder what had happened to Gale. Was he faring well? How was his family? Has he found love?

My heart twists more at the last thought. I would have never thought of Gale with anyone else.

But maybe things have changed.

The only thing I knew was that I couldn't delay it any longer. "Peeta?"

His blue eyes find mine. "Yes?"

I take a breath, and then it all comes rushing out. "I want to have a wedding."

Surprise flits across his features. "Why?"

I sigh. "I don't know. Remember when we were going to have one? A real one?"

He nods. "Why does it matter if we're bonded like that?"

I know what he means, without him explaining. "I just…need something good in my life. It'll make my mother happy too."

Now he knows he can't argue. He opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off.

"I know that there's no point, but…" I trail off for a second. "But I just want to show the world that there is some love left in the world." I look at him. "Will you?"

He's silent for a moment, but then he smiles. He says the only word I can hope for in this bleak world.

"Yes."


	2. Chapter 2: The Meadow Whispers

**Hey! Sorry for the seemingly late update…I'm writing as fast as I can! **

**I'm not going to talk much before this chapter, but I just wanted to say thanks for the people that reviewed **_**After Mockingjay**_**. I really, really appreciate it! The reviews are MUCH needed and greatly appreciated! **

After Mockingjay.

Chapter Two: The Meadow Whispers

The Meadow is cold, even in the bright summer morning. Maybe it's because the cover of the trees are blocking most of the sunlight. Or a cold breeze has moved in.

But I know it is something entirely different.

The cold inside of me swells to an ache when I see the dark figure that approaches from the other side of the dense forest. And I know I must prepare myself for the worst.

As if my brain registers this, it calls up another memory. And then I am back at the House in District 12, sitting by the phone that I rarely ever use.

The stark piece of paper trembles in my hand as I punch in the numbers on the phone. It had been so long since I had spoken to her. I worry that I would hear her, and then hang up like the coward I am.

Instead I finish dialling, and then press the receiver to my ear.

"Hello?" My mother's voice echoes from the speaker.

I choke up. Right then and there, when the words are hanging off of my tongue. My eyes fill with tears as I imagine her sitting all alone at her kitchen table. Without Prim. Somehow, that makes it worse. But it also moves me to speak.

"Hello," I say in a small voice, so unlike myself. "It's me." _Like she would have ever forgotten me._

"Oh," my mother's tone mimics mine. She probably feels the same way as I do. "Katniss. How have you been?"

I recognize the forcefulness in her voice. "Good," I add, "How about you?" Just for good measure.

"Fine," she answers. Then the line is silent. It seems as though I will have to do the talking.

"Mother," I say, and then hurry on so I don't back out of it. "Peeta and I were thinking of getting married."

Silence.

"A formal wedding," I say. "A nice one."

The silence drags on for a while. And then, "Katniss…" she says.

"I know," I say. "It's difficult to think about…but it will be good. Good for everyone else."

"How?" She tries to snap back, but fails. Then she sighs. "Look, Katniss. I am fine about the wedding. I'd love for you to finally get formally married. But, are you doing it because it's good for everyone else? Or because it's good for you?"

Wow. I've never heard my mother carry out a speech this big. But at the same time, it moves me. I had no hesitation when I asked Peeta. But now, faced with what I really wanted, and what I wanted to do for everyone else, I had to make a real decision.

Quickly, I run things through in my head. If we go through with the wedding, it will give people new hope. New hope to strive after a battle that broke everything. Maybe it will even quell a new uprising, if there is one. But do I want it for my own reasons too?

"It's good for both of us," I finish.

Now in the forest, reflecting on everything I had said I realize that I made the right choice.

Now Gale and I are only feet apart. I see the dark circles under his eyes, the tight smile on his face and I push back all thoughts of the wedding until it comes time to tell him.

I'm in his arms before I even know what's happening. I inhale the sharp smell of coal and grass that he always carries around with him.

"Catnip," he says in my ear before drawing away.

"Gale," I answer, smiling up at him.

For a second everything's calm, and then something changes when he looks me in the eyes. I can't tell if its uncertainty or a suppressed confusion that draws him away from me.

I try to hide the dejection I feel when he does this.

When he speaks his voice is cool and level. Like we we're acquaintances we haven't seen in a while "How have you been?"

I refrain from narrowing my eyes, my most common reaction to his words. "I'm fine. How about you?"

"Never better," he says. "How's Peeta?"

I can tell he is mocking me. "Fine." I repeat coldly. There is a moment of silence before I speak again. "What's going on with you Gale? Why are you like this?"

Sadness invades his expression. "I haven't seen you for months Katniss. Why do you call on me now, when I've been worrying about you?"

Again, I feel no reason to beat around the bush. It has to be said before he walks out on me. "I had to tell you something."

"What?" He asks, sounding both curious and wary.

I suck in a deep breath, and prepare myself for the second time that day. "Peeta and I are getting married."

Suddenly, the distance between us is vast. It's like we were standing on either side of a precipice, and I was leaning over the edge. And he wouldn't help me from falling to my death.

His face is ashen when he speaks next. "What?"

"Peeta and I are getting married," I say. "For real this time."

His expressions change many times over the next seconds that follow. First is anger. Then defeat. And then just weariness. "I should've expected this."

I breathe a sigh of relief. At least he isn't angry.

But when I looked at him again, I see it in his eyes that he is. And I don't blame him. Once, I thought I would spend the rest of my life with Gale. Maybe, someday, when the Hunger Games are over, have kids. But that all ended the day the boy with the bread entered my life.

"Are you angry?" I ask, unable to stop myself.

"A bit," he seems to be battling with his own inner demons as he speaks. I don't even have to say why before he's explaining. "Why Katniss? Why do you want to be bonded with him? Everything is over and done. Can't you just be happy with what you have?"

His words hit hard. I should be happy for what I have. Yet, I am still the same shameful, selfish girl I see myself as at this moment. "I love him," I say, and I know that it is true.

He breaths in sharply. I arm myself for what's coming next, although it never comes. Instead he sighs. "I can't do anything about this, can I?"

I shake my head. He sighs again, and turned away. Our meeting has ended.

But before he walks away, he peers back at me through his dark gray eyes. "I'm seeing Madge, did you know?"

I am expecting a surge the surge of jealously that hit me when I suspected this before, but all that comes is a faint contentment. This tells me that the feelings I may have once had for Gale were gone. If there ever were feelings like that at all. Plus, Madge is my friend. She is the one person I want most to be with Gale. They will be happy together, and that I know for sure.

Gale seems to sense this and he smiles, only for a second before turning and walking away.

**That's it people! Thanks for reading. Again I am trying as hard as possible to update as **_**soon **_**as possible, so be patient. **

**Please review! **

**-Laura **


	3. Chapter 3: Phantom

**Hey guys! Thanks for all of the constructive criticism – especially a couple that gave me some advice, which I give a special thanks to – it really helped! **

**Anyways, on with the story. **

After Mockingjay

Chapter Three: Phantom

I sit straight up in bed, a scream caught somewhere in my throat. Images of my nightmare scatter in the darkness, leaving imprints of blood and fire against the walls.

A whimper escapes my mouth, the last of what the scream would've been if I had let it loose. The physical force of the nightmare causes me to tremble, tears threatening to overflow my eyes.

There is a groan from beside me, a creak of bedspring, and when I turn Peeta's lips meet mine. His arms encircle me protectively, and I sink into their depths, grateful. He still smells like bread, and a hint of spring grass. Like the meadow on a warm summer day.

I break away, and we sit there for a couple moments, wrapped in each other's arms. The steady sounds of our hearts fill the silence, and when I feel normal again I look up at his face. His eyes are staring straight ahead, his jaw set, obviously caught in his own nightmare before my own. I want to say something, but I can't find the words.

Sometime later, I feel my arms withdraw from him and return to my side. He spares a glance at me. "You okay now?"

I nod. "And you?"

"Yeah," he rubs the side of his face, sighing.

I look at him for a couple seconds, and then lie back down. He does the same, and curls an arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I let him, thankful for the warmth of his body.

It might have been only seconds later, or hours, but when I open my eyes next the sun is shining through the windows, dust motes drifting in the rays of light. I sit up and realize Peeta is gone.

I walk downstairs, braiding my hair on the way. When I see Haymitch sitting at the table, my hands drop, half of the braid left unfinished. Peeta is by the sink, leaning back against it.

"I heard about what you're planning," says Haymitch.

"And…?" I still can't tell if he's happy about our plans, or is about to bore them into the ground.

"I think you're both smarter than I gave you credit for," he says, and then takes a drink out of a glass I hadn't realized was there. Immediately, I know what it is. After we had returned to District 12, Haymitch had drowned himself in drink. I thought he would never be sober again, but that was before I saw the full bottles in the trash outside his house. I smile inwardly. Old habits die hard, I suppose.

"I think it's a great idea," Peeta says, sparing a glance at me. I can tell by the gleam in his eyes he's as excited as I am, deep down on the inside.

"It'll give the new Districts something to hold on to, at least," says Haymitch.

"The only thing we have to worry about is how we are going to get it televised," I say.

"I'm sure there are a lot of people who would love to do that," Haymitch exaggerates. "I'll talk to Plutarch. He'll figure something out."

I think back to the false Gamemaker who had been on the hovercraft when they dropped me off here. He was appointed to secretary of communications, which handled many televised events. I remember hearing that my trial was one of the first, after I had shot President Coin. I push that memory back, with the reason why I had killed her.

I stand by Peeta, who wraps and arm around my shoulder. He says to Haymitch, "If I wasn't so elated right now, I might think twice about asking you to be my best man."

Haymitch's eyebrows shook up to his hairline, as well as mine. "Are you serious, boy?"

Peeta nods. "I have no one else I'd rather have to be it." I can't detect any sorrow for the family and friends he's lost in this war. His parents and his brothers, all dead when the Capitol bombed District 12. He seems to be coping better than I am.

And that reminds me. I have to pick a maid of honour, which was the last thing on my mind when I asked Peeta. Who could it be? If Prim was still alive, it would be without a doubt, her.

Haymitch sighs. "I guess I have no choice. Alright, I'll do it."

Both me and Peeta clap, as if on cue. If I wasn't tied down by the decision I had to make, I would've thought it was humorous.

Haymitch waves us off and stands up. "I should go. Weddings don't plan themselves, you know."

As he heads for the door, I call out. "Thank you."

He twists around and eyes me for a moment. "Take care of yourself Katniss." He says before sauntering out.

When I hear to door close, Peeta pulls me in front of him to face him. "That was a lot easier than I thought it would be." He says.

I smile. "Now all we have to worry about is the venue, invitations, the dress…" I have to admit, it's a very long list.

"I'll work on the invitations," Peeta says. "The venue should come to us later. As for the dress…"

"I'll talk to my mother," I say, because it's the first thing on my mind. I don't want Peeta to pull out of this idea because we have nothing to work with. I _want_ this, I realize.

"Who are you going to choose as your maid of honour?" Peeta asks, yet again bringing back another problem.

"I don't know." I say truthfully.

He thinks for a minute. "How about Madge?"

_Madge_. Just thinking about her reminds me of Gale, and how he said that they were seeing each other. But I have to realize that it _is_ a good idea. And there is literally no one else. "We'll see." I say instead.

Peeta smiles at me and kisses my forehead. I hug him, and we stand there, each brought together by the horrors of the Capitol, each haunted by our own past, each awaiting out own future together. As one.

**And that's it for Chapter Three! Just as a heads up, I'll try to get the wedding fitted in for Chapter Five or Six, by the latest. Thanks for reading! **

**-Laura**


	4. Chapter 4: All This Time

**Like last time, I'm going to get right to the story, but first there are some things I have to say…**

**Thanks for all the reviews. They make me happy (like usual). **

**My Microsoft Trial subscription just ended for my laptop, so sorry if I'm a bit late with this chapter. I have to type this on the family's computer, and it's hard to get privacy on here. **

**Also, I've just re-read Mockingjay (again) and have caught one huge mistake in my story. Hopefully, no one remembers that Suzanne Collins presented Madge as "dead" in the end of Mockingjay. She didn't really go into specifics, but there was actually no body to go along with the evidence…so I'm improvising. **

**And, as always, enjoy. **

After Mockingjay

Chapter Four: All This Time

That night I sit in the living room, in the old rocking chair where I spent most of my first days back in 12. A fire is lit in the hearth, burning brightly. I almost wish to close my eyes and imagine myself devoured by the flames, becoming them and twisting into a new creature. Cinna's Mockingjay, its wings glowing brightly from flame and smoke…

I'm jostled out of my reverie by Peeta, whom I sensed at the doorway. I turn around and there he is, silhouetted against the darkness. I smile at him and turn around again to face the flames. I think. Would I really want to be that bird again? Would I ever want to be consumed that much again? No. I was already consumed, by this love that was too foreign to know.

I feel Peeta's hand descend on the top of the chair, and I wonder what is happening for a moment until he grips it harder, causing the chair to creak backwards a little. I tip my head up to see his gaze staring forwards into the flames, his eyes glazed over and faraway. His mouth is open slightly, as if he is about to say something, but can't find the words.

"Peeta?" I say, my voice quiet above the crackling of coals.

It lasts only a couple more seconds, but during that time I feel terrified. He snaps out of it quickly, shaking his head and releasing his death grip on the chair. I say his name again, and his blue eyes flash down to meet mine.

"Flashbacks," he says, his voice low. "They usually don't last long. I'm alright now."

For some strange reason, I feel tears collect in the back of my eyes. What did he see? Snow torturing him again? Distorted memories of me, memories that provoke him to cause me harm? Visions of the mutts that chased us through the underground? I'm almost afraid to ask. So I stay silent.

He must see my quietness as a sign of something, because he says, "Do you want me to get you a blanket? Are you cold?" Even though the fire's still blazing, he retrieves a blanket from the sofa and drapes it over me. I am still worried when he sits on the floor in front of me, removes my socks and begins rubbing my feet. I wonder if this is a distraction from the flashbacks, or he's simply restless.

I soon relax under his gentle hands. "I was thinking," I say, "That after this wedding, we should open-" My words are suddenly cut off by the insistent ringing of our doorbell.

Peeta stands up and so do I, the blanket falling to my feet. I contemplate immediately who would be ringing our doorbell at this hour. Just by looking into Peeta's eyes I can tell he feels the same way.

We walk down the hallway together, our shoulders bumping into each other's until we reach the door. Peeta pulls it open, and a draft of cold air seeps in, revealing the person outside. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Doctor's hands, callused and crafty.

My mother smiles at me, holding up a black bag. It's clear from the lines around her mouth and the dark circles under her eyes that she's still grieving for Prim. "Hello Katniss honey."

I don't really know what happened next. One second I'm rooted beside Peeta, and then the next I'm in my mother's arms, knocking the black bag from her hands.

She pats my hair, and I feel my shoulder getting wet from her sudden tears. It had been so long since I had seen my mother, so long since I had felt her caressing hands over my hair. I remember to the day of the reaping, so long ago when she styled my hair, never imagining that I would volunteer for Prim. Never imagining that we would both loose the one thing that held us to sanity.

When we pull apart, my mother picks up the bag I knocked down, and then hands it to me. "This is for you." She says, a glow in her eyes.

Peeta beckons her towards us, standing in the house. "Come in."

She does, taking off her shoes and hanging her coat on a hook by the door. I clutch the bag against my chest, feeling something soft in it.

We go back to the living room, where my socks and blanket are still on the floor. My mother sits on the couch as Peeta retrieves them and places them on the chair again. I sit next to him on the couch, facing the fire and my mother.

"Open it," she says, motioning to the bag.

I do what she says, and gasp at what's inside. I stand up and pull out the beautiful white wedding dress. I can tell just by the way it's shaped who designed it.

"Cinna left a couple dresses back in the Capitol," she says. "I had Paylor send me the one you loved the most."

I am too shocked by my mother's gesture to think about Paylor, the new president of Panem. I run the silky fabric between my fingers, feeling memories rise in me until they are spilling, bubbling over the top.

I lay the dress on the back of the rocking chair, drinking in the sight of it. It's a creamy ivory white, with pearls around the collar. Lacy sleeves float down, also decorated with studded gems. The fabric cinches at the waist, and the bottom is laced with silvery designs. For one moment, I think I see the thread form of a bird in the designs, but it disappears as the image of the dress wavers behind the wall of tears forming in my eyes.

I feel Peeta stand behind me, admiring the dress like I am. I know it's bad luck for the groom to see the dress before I'm walking down the aisle, but I don't care. This is the last form of Cinna left, and I want to share it with everybody. Let everybody know who he was and what he had done for me. Suddenly, I'm glad that the wedding is being televised.

I wipe my eyes and look at my mother again. I can see tears in her eyes as well. "Thank you." I say.

She nods, smiling through the sadness.

After I put the dress carefully back in the bag, I settle back down on the couch with Peeta, and we talk.

For how long we talk, I don't know. We talk about the hospital she's opened up in 2. How it's thriving, and that they're planning to branch off into other Districts. We talk about how she's doing in 2, where she lives, who she's spending her time with. And then we talk about me. What I've been doing. How I'm coping being back here. How Peeta and I are faring together.

And when we bid her goodbye from the doorstep as she leaves, I feel as if I've bonded with my mother again. We promised to talk on the phone, and to check in at least once a week. I know that promise might be hard to keep, but it was worth it.

As soon as her car leaves, I feel light on my feet. I realize that I haven't slept in a while, and it's almost midnight.

Peeta immediately scoops me up in his arms. "Ready for bed?"

I nod and rest my head against his chest.

I'm asleep before we're even up the stairs.

**Wow, that actually didn't take long at all. I think this is actually my quickest update. (That, and the fact that I've been sitting here for the past hour and a half, writing this). **

**Please review if you like this story, and don't be afraid to tell me some pointers. **

**Thanks! **

**-Laura **


	5. Chapter 5: Reverence

**Hey! No news this time. Enjoy! **

After Mockingjay

Chapter Five: Reverence

The venue. The rings. Flowers. This is what is worried over for the past couple days. What is Peeta going to wear? Who will lay all of the stuff out? All of these mundane things barely glance the surface of my mind, given the fact that it's all done before I can even sort my thoughts.

Peeta's premonition pulls through. The old Peacekeeper building, he thinks, will be a substantial venue. In only a week after our proposal, I'm surprised he's already found a place that I go along with it immediately. There's really no point in travelling outside of 12 to get a better one, and it only feels right that we're getting married in our home district.

The rings are made at a small jewelry store in District 1, the district that made luxury items for the Capitol before the Revolution. I heard from my mother that they'll be transported to 2 in another week, and when she comes for the wedding she'll bring them.

The flowers come from District 7, crate loads of them stacked at our door one morning. Peeta pries one open and we find them overflowing with blushing primroses.

We take one look at each other and Peeta puts the lid back on the crate, saying that he'll take them to Haymitch's until the wedding.

The rest is pointless, at least in my mind. Peeta's suit is made at a small tailor in the square and, again, Haymitch is taking care of the rest. I don't know why he's so involved in this, after he swore he was going to have a quiet life after we were dropped off from 13.

And that only leaves the invitations.

On a warm Monday morning, I sit in the kitchen while Peeta sits at the table, sorting through a small notebook, brows pulled with concentration. I watch as he scribbles something down in a second notebook and turns his attention back on the first.

"What are you doing?" I ask, after half an hour of this.

"Invitations," He says, and then places both notebooks down. I was surprised. I almost forgot that he said he was going to do the invitations.

I sigh, chewing thoughtfully on the cheese-covered buns Peeta made the day before and wonder who he is going to invite, since the list in my head is too short to adhere to the three lists of names on his paper.

He seems to notice this and flips back to the first page. "Here, take a look."

I do, and instantly realize that I wasn't thinking hard enough. The first couple names are obvious; my mother, Gale, Haymitch, Madge. I knew I should've guessed those.

I scan down the rest of the list, and names jump out at me. Annie, Pollux, Beetee, Delly, Hazelle. A small twinge of revelation deep in my stomach, working its way up to my heart where it becomes a vibrating confusion. I get to the next names; Plutarch, Paylor, Effie. More surprise when I see my old prep team's names on there.

"Why are they-?" I begin to question, shaking my head.

He seems to know who I was talking about. "They would enjoy this. Plus, who else is going to make you look ravishing that day?"

I smirk and continue down the list. I see Enobaria's name, and for some reason this just makes me sigh.

"Johanna?" I say finally, when I reach halfway down the list.

Peeta mumbles something inaudible, and this sparks a smile in me. I haven't seen Johanna since I departed 13. I hope that she's faring well, holding on to the last shreds of sanity the Capitol had left her with.

The rest of the names are citizens from 13 whom Peeta must have made friends with during our stay there. I remember some of their names, but I can match no faces to them if I tried.

I place the list back on the table and look up, realizing that Peeta's face is no more than a couple inches from mine.

For some reason, my heart begins to flutter. It's a weird emotion, something I remember from long ago. An emotion that was once fleeting, but had curled up and died somewhere inside of me. It was just rearing its unfamiliar head, tasting for something more.

And with this feelings comes thoughts. Peeta hasn't pressured me since we had started sleeping in the same bed again, and we barely spoke about it. "I won't force you Katniss," he had said, and that was that.

He leans in further, the pen clattering from his hand. It begins softly, like the patter of rain against the windowpane, a flower slowly unfurling in the spring time. His lips are cool, comforting. They spark something inside of me, the dimmed flame in my chest that made me breath in quick, the feeling spreading outwards to the tips of my toes and fingers.

I feel a single tear run down my face, and then his lips are gone, but only for a second. He skirts around the table and lifts me up, his arms circling me. I feel his lips press into mine again, and then I move, my hands touching his face softly.

He picks me up, muscles contracting in his arms as he does so. I can't stop. The flame inside me is roaring, threatening to consume us both.

"Is this what you want?" He asks against my mouth when he realizes.

I think. I think about being alone for the first couple months in 12. I think about the first days with him here, distant and aloof. And I think about the months that came afterward, where the only thing in my life that was _good_was Peeta. The only thing that was pure, and unconditional.

"Yes..." I murmur.

He scoops me up, cradling me between his arms. There's a moment of weightlessness, where my decision hangs in the balance and I'm given time to choose otherwise. I don't.

I feel the soft down of the mattress beneath my back, the strong, solid weight above me. His hands, my hands, I can no longer keep track. The flame inside me flares outward, surrounding us both. The fire consumes us, burning us, and finally when our spirits are drawn out by the blaze they fuse together. And we are one.

**Next chapter, I promise. Get ready! **


	6. Chapter 6: The Wedding

After Mockingjay

Chapter Six: The Wedding

The day is here. Finally, after more time than I can remember, it is finally here.

The morning of our wedding is sunny. Light streams through the parted shades in the bedroom, casting shadows on the walls and adding a yellow hue to the air.

I roll over and find Peeta still asleep beside me. I close my eyes again, knowing that it is still very early, but sleep eludes me. My senses are jittery and uncontrollable.

As I slip out of bed, I think of that old saying. Something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue. I cannot even remember where I had heard it; from my mother, when she was younger as was curled up on the couch with my father, retelling their own wedding day? I can almost visualize the look in my mother's eyes and she looks down at us that day, Prim and I situated on the carpet in front of the fire, a light in my father's expression. Thankful for the gifts she had been given, to have all of us as a family. Never once stopping to think that it might be taken away one day.

_Prim_. The name sends a sharp pain through me, an arrow piercing my heart. Again, I think of how she would have been here, getting trussed up by my former prep team. Maybe in a gown of light blue or soft pink, with a bow in her hair. I think of how she would have been my maid of honour, how I wouldn't even have taken a second to hesitate on that decision.

I descend the stairs, and my thoughts drift back into memories.

My hand burns around a cup of hot tea, but I have no sense to remove it. I am slightly chilled inside, for no particular reason.

Madge flits around the room, grabbing a couple pillows and a blanket before sitting in the soft chair across from me. Between us is a coffee table, laden with cream and sugar. A steaming tea pot rests on a cloth cushion, as to not sear the table.

"It's so nice to see you Katniss," Madge says, but by the dark circles under her eyes and the weary set of her mouth she's more spent then she's letting on. After I returned to 12, I had wandered to the Meadow and had seen former residents piling corpses into wheelbarrows, the bodies of the citizens that had not been so lucky. They hadn't escaped the mass bombing of our District after the Quarter Quell. Madge's parents were one of the unlucky ones. I had thought Madge dead as well, only before they found her and a couple other survivors that hadn't been taken to 13 hiding out in the woods. It seemed as though they has escaped the initial blast, and then taken refuge in the underbrush. They had stolen food from what had remained of 12, and lived in the stone hut for months. I suppose Madge was the leader of it all, taking points from her father. What really irked me was how she did it. I suppose, after years of watching the Hunger Games as the mayors daughter, she would pick up a couple things. But in the end, it was a miracle they were even alive.

So Madge had taken lease in her old home, now an enormous empty house. The death of her parents had hit her hard, even thought she had known for months after they hadn't stumbled through the door of the stone hut.

"It's nice to see you too Madge," I say, and then there is an awkward silence. I take a gulp of burning tea to fill it, but I only succeed in burning my throat and coughing a couple times.

"Um…" I place my cup down and sit back. "Did you…did you get the invitation?"

She nods placidly. "Yes. Thank you, by the way. So you guys are finally getting married? About time."

I snort a laugh. "Yeah, of course."

"No, I'm really happy for you," she says. "You two are perfect for each other. It's a good thing, after such a dark time."

"Mhmm…" I fidget a bit, and stop myself before I start biting my nails. "Look Madge…I…uh…" I stop, start, and stop again. I try to find the words, try to present then adequately. I see a subtle eye-rolling on her part before I just blush and say, "Will you be my maid of honour?" I think she expected this, but it still doesn't take away the slight surprise in her eyes.

She literally beams. "Oh Katniss…of course I will!"

I smile, and another weight finally floats off my chest. "Thank you."

More silence. Then she shoots up, mouth open, eyes widening.

"Oh gosh, the wedding is tomorrow!" She cried, her hands going to her head. "What am I going to do? I still need a dress, and what about-"

I cut her off with a wave of my hand. "It's fine." I say. "All of that's being taken care of. Come to our house tomorrow morning, and everything will be ready."

Her panic dims in her eyes. She sweeps over and before I can react she envelops me into a hug. "I feel so honoured…"

I hug her back, a little stiff but caring none the less. "No problem."

She pulls back, but her arms grip my shoulders and her eyes are serious now. "You have to wear the pin Katniss. You have to."

"I-"

"You have to," she repeats, and then lets me go, a new resolve shining in her eyes.

My thoughts are brought back to the present with more than a slight bump when the front door bangs open and in rushes my prep team.

They envelope me almost instantly. First Octavia, with her usually forest green skin tinged to a darker shade descends, hugging me. The smell of some kind of honeysuckle perfume assaults my nostrils before she pulls away.

I see Venia by the door, her golden tattoos sharper against her pale skin, in her hand a very large makeup case. She gives me a tight smile before there is a call outside and Flavius comes in, carrying a black bag that has to be nothing other than my wedding dress.

And then they get to work. Primping and styling my body, dazzling my face and adding a couple more strings of pearls to my dress. All of this takes place in the living room, which has been transformed into some kind of beauty parlor.

My mother arrives an hour after they start, soon followed by Madge who is flustered and led off by an ecstatic Octavia who says that she had the perfect dress to match her eyes.

Sometime later I hear Peeta thumping down the stairs, and almost immediately Flavius ushers him back upstairs, negligent to Peeta's confused protests.

"You can't see the bride until the wedding!" Flavius exclaims.

I smile behind my hand. Venia snaps – nicely – at me that I would ruin my nails if I move my hand again.

People are soon coming in and out of our house. Everything is a blur until finally, an hour before the ceremony the dress is slipped over my head, and Venia spins me towards a mirror.

A gasp comes to claim me. I am staring at a stranger; a girl with soft brown hair styled in an updo with tiny gems placed strategically around her head. Her snow white dress is magnificent, draping around her body like the tendrils of a ghost. Her face is perfect; a touch of makeup here, a brush of lipstick there, and wide, startled gray eyes. It takes me a moment to realize that this girl is me, the normal Seam girl who had been through so much in just a short time. And in just an equally short time, I would be married.

I see Madge out of the corner of my eye. She's wearing a pale pink dress with flowers sewn into the neckline. Her hair falls softly around her shoulders, and for once there are no dark circles under her eyes.

My mother is dressed in a lighter yellow dress, with a white sunhat on her head. I remember reading somewhere that the bride's mother sometimes wears a hat to her wedding. I suddenly remember the saying I had been thinking of earlier, about something old, new, borrowed, and blue.

I voice this to my mother, just as an afterthought. Immediately she jumps, "I'll be right back," she says, and then hurries into the other room. Madge shuffles up and hands me something, her eyes bright.

It's my Mockingjay pin. The gold circlet with the carved bird in the middle, connected to the ring with its wingtips.

"Something old," she says, and then fastens it over my heart.

"And something borrowed," I say.

She shakes her head but says nothing. I touch the pin, feel the cool texture of the metal and remember the day on the train when Madge gave this to me. It's painful to think about.

I'm silent for a couple moments, which gives everyone time to gather around me. My mother comes back when I drop my hand. In her grasp is a silver chain, with a dazzling blue pendant on the end of it.

"My mother gave it to me on my wedding day," she says. Venia takes it and drapes it around my neck quickly and then stands back.

"Something blue," I say.

"What about something new?" Madge piques.

"What about the dress?" I suggest, looking down at the swaths of fabric.

"No, that's something old," my mother says, contemplating it for a moment.

It seemed as though everyone was contemplating it before Octavia mutters, "The shoes are new."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes but smile anyways. My reflection smiles back just as well.

I stand on the top of the curved stairs leading down to the altar, hidden from view. My stomach is whirling, my hands shaking where they rest of the railing. I can hear people speaking down below, and know that any minute Plutarch will lead me down the stairs where cameras will fix on me almost immediately.

By now I'm wondering if I have made a mistake. There is no doubt I love Peeta, but is this really necessary?

_Yes_, I told myself. It might be able to hold off another rebellion, and give citizens of Panem hope.

_But is this what I really want_? I ask. I close my eyes against the suddenly blinding sun, and in that moment I know what to do.

I banish every thought from my mind that has to do with Panem and the Districts, and think of Peeta. I think of the way his eyes shine in the light, and how warm and safe his arms feel when he holds me. I grasp that image in my mind, and hold it there. Right now I'm not doing this for anyone else. I'm doing it for _us_.

I open my eyes once everything goes silent below. I turn and see Plutarch with his arm out, and I loop mine through it.

"This is going to be great," He says. I only have time to nod and hold my head high before we're descending the stairs.

There is a hush below us as we come into view. I take in our surroundings as quickly as possible when the altar is not in view; rows upon rows of white chairs are stationed facing the front of the garden, weaving with garlands on pink and white ribbons. Every single one of those chairs is filled. I see black cameras, like miniature beetles stationed around, all pointing towards me. But what really makes my heart choke up is the thousands of prim roses growing from around the garden, and entwined into a creamy white arch where Peeta stands.

I think my heart stopped for a moment. He looks handsome in black, a pink rose on his lapel. He breaks into a smile, white glinting against the sun.

I can't help the gasp that comes to my lips, and then I am smiling to.

Plutarch deposits me at the altar, and then takes his seat. I see Haymitch looking very uncomfortable in his suit but otherwise he's content. I peer behind me and see Madge smiling at me through glistening tears. I glance over the crowd where everyone is sitting, where my mother is also crying. It is weird that even though this is supposed to be a happy event, people are still crying.

Then the minister begins to speak. There are only a few priests in Panem, and luckily Plutarch was able to get us one.

I start to panic almost at once. Peeta takes my hand and I look up at him, receiving an encouraging and calming grin and my nerves immediately calm down to a noisy drawl in the back of my mind.

The minister's words are drowned out in my ears. I whisper the vows quietly after Peeta says them, and then we are nearing the end. All that time Peeta has not let go of my hand, and my eyes are fixed on his.

"'Till death do us part," Peeta says finally.

My throat closes up. I never want to think of death between us again, never want to experience that black cloud that had constantly hovered ever since our names were Reaped. Si I simply push all of those thoughts from my mind, and focus on the person I love most in the world. "'Till death do us part." I whisper.

And then he is staring at me like I am the sun, and I him. And for the moment there is no one else on the world but us.

The minister says something, something that never reaches my ears until I realize that this is it, and that we are married before Peeta kisses me.

There is applause all around us, suddenly deafening and silent at the same time. The sun burns bright around us, and stars burst in front of my vision. My lips curve against Peeta's, soft and knowing, fitting perfectly to mine like they always had.

And in that moment I only feel pure happiness.

**Whew that took a long time. Well, anyways, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. The next chapter should come out in the next week or so, so sit tight! Thanks for all your support and remember to review please! **

**-L**


	7. Chapter 7: Daunted

**Hey people! Thanks to all of the reviewers; I really appreciate it! R&R this chapter too, if you please :) **

**And now, on to the story! **

After Mockingjay

Chapter Seven: Daunted

After the heartfelt ceremony at the altar, Peeta takes my hand and we walk to the side to sign the official marriage papers. Following that we go back down the altar together this time, my hand tucked under his, to the after party.

If the Capitol would have held our wedding before the Quarter Quell, I would have expected an after party of grand proportions. Now, with the Capitol gone, the celebration is just as grand, if not smaller and more inclusive.

The party is in the building beside the garden. Ironically enough, it is the old Peacekeeper building. The walls are a bright white, and the floors polished and shining. My shoes tap over it as we make our way towards the grand central room.

I try to take it all in at once, when we walk in. There are dozens of tables and chairs draped with white cloth and lace, and centerpieces with even more pink flowers. There is a dance floor cutting through the entire thing. I can't help but grin, but there is a twisting feeling inside that reminds me of the celebration at the Capitol after the Tours Peeta and I took through the districts.

Before everyone arrives, Peeta sweeps me in his arms and gives me another kiss.

"Have fun Katniss," he says. "Don't think."

For his sake and mine, I try.

The place swarms with people not soon after that. There is a custom, I heard, that the family of the bride and groom go in a line and everyone congratulates them and thanks them. But since the only family consisted of Peeta, myself, and my mother, we are all bombarded at once. Soon Peeta and I become separated, and I find myself in the midst of dozens of people.

I do what Peeta says and smile, and don't think. I thank the people after they have complemented me - on my dress, the venue, the beautiful flowers - and I find myself going along with the flow.

"Congrats."

I find myself turning to see Gale standing there, his hands shoved into the pockets of his dress pants. My throat goes dry for a moment, for I expect pain or even anger. But his mouth is twisted into a smirk, and I can see by the wistful look in his eyes that he's sincere and content.

I can't help the small smile that comes to my lips. The hopeful and swelling feeling for my friend expands in me and I hug him. Maybe we can still be close after this.

He hugs me in return, and then I step back. When I had last seen him in the forest, he was different. He was closed off. Restless. But somehow, he was changed. And maybe it had something to do with the girl who hooks her arm around his.

"That was _amazing _Katniss," Madge says a bit breathlessly. "Honestly amazing."

I look at the both of them together, complete opposites with Gale's black hair and gray eyes, next to Madge's blonde hair and blue eyes. I notice the way Madge's eyes keep on darting up to look at Gale, and Gale glancing down at her ever so often. I see a couple who was meant for each other. All they had to do was find each other first.

"You're staying, right?" I ask.

Gale grins and takes Madge's hand. "Of course."

The afternoon passes by in a blur and soon merges into nighttime. By that point, I everyone was enjoying themselves. An hour after the ceremony, dinner was served. (Made especially by Capitol chefs, but Greasy Sae couldn't stand watching everybody else cook the food, so she took over.)

After that, the dancing started.

Music rings out all around us, sweet, soft melodies and jubilant tunes. I grasp Peeta's hand more tightly as he sweeps me around the dance floor. I feel as though my feet aren't even touching the floor half of the time, and my jaw is hurting from the smile that seems permanently expressed on my face.

I laugh as he dips me down to the ground, and then pulls me back up so that we're face to face.

I give him a quick peck on the lips, and then drift away. "Thirsty," I mouth to him. This is true; dancing is really tiring.

I pull up the bottom of my dress and walk over to the food table stationed by one wall. I stop by the rows of crystal glasses filled with water and pick one up, taking a huge gulp and then remembering that Octavia would kill me if I smudged my lip stick. _Oh _well. I think. Peeta and I have done enough kissing that I wouldn't be surprised if red is smeared halfway across my face.

A hand snatches up another one of the glasses, and I turn to see Annie standing there, the water held delicately in her small hands. She's wearing a pale blue-green dress that matches her eyes, and flat shoes. For a moment my eyes are directed to the obvious bump in her abdomen, and my heart clenches for a brief moment.

She seems to sense my thoughts. "Oh this?" She pats her stomach, smiling slightly, her gaze faraway. "Yes, I suppose he'll be just like his father. He kicks _all _day. Here, feel." She takes my hand and guides it to the bump. I'm about to object when I feel something against my hand. Movement, and then something nudges my hand softly.

I can't help but let my eyes widen. A small sound escapes my lips, something between wonder and bewilderment. A small voice inside me whispers, _there's something alive in there. A human being! _

She releases my hand and I pull it back fast, as if I would somehow hurt the baby inside her. "It's amazing, isn't it?" She breathes. "While at the same time...its my only ties left to him."

I don't have to think about who she refers to. "It is amazing," I agree, for her sake.

I watch as she nodded, placed the still full glass back on the table, and walk away. She soon disappears into the crowd.

I stare at the place where she disappeared, a hard feeling in my heart. She was still as mad as she was months ago; and I could tell that she was still suffering.

I turn back towards the table and put the glass down, just in time for someone to pull me away.

Plutarch sweeps me around the floor, his grin a genuine one. "The wedding is a hit!" He exclaims.

My feet are barely able to keep up with his as we cut an arch across the dance floor. I don't know what to say.

"We recorded it live, of course, and screened it across the televisions of millions of Panem residents. Nobody will ever forget this!"

He's almost squealing with joy. I settle for a smile. "That's good."

"It's more than good, my darling," he says. "This may hold off anything; _everything_ forever!"

My stomach gives a slight lurch. "Right."

The song ends and another one comes on. I step back from Plutarch, and not a second afterwards Paylor, almost unrecognizable in a flowing gray dress, switches partners with me. The next moment comes, and I'm dancing with Gale.

"Having fun?" He asks simply, grinning as he twirls me around.

We drift around the floor like experts, our feet never catching on each others, held the perfect distance apart. "Of course." I answer. Its nice to dance with Gale; it feels almost peaceful. "You?"

"Of course," he mimics me.

We dance some more. I wonder for a small moment who Peeta is dancing with, and then I realize that I can't see him in the crowd. My hands clench of Gale's before I can stop them.

Gale seems to see what I'm thinking. "Lost your new husband already? He's out there." He jerks his head to the side, motioning to two french doors paneled with glass. "He told me to tell you that when you asked."

"Well, thanks," I say. There's a moment of silence. "I should probably go see him."

"You do that," he says, releasing me. I incline my head in thanks and then start towards the doors.

With my hand on the gold handle, I turn around. I see Gale meet back up with Madge, who slides an arm through his. She bends up on her tip toes and kisses him on the cheek, and a light flush appears on Gale's face. He smiles at her and sweeps her back into the crowd. I swear that their feet weren't touching the ground.

I smile to myself and turn back to the doors. _I think they might love each other_, I think. _Either way, its good to know that they have someone to confide in_.

I push open the doors, and a blast of cool air hits me. At first I'm caught by surprise; and that's when I realize that it isn't another room, its a balcony.

The place takes shape. A stone floor stretches several feet and knifes up into a solid wall, with wrought iron decor set to protect somebody from falling over the side. A plant in a ceramic pot sits on the three-foot wall, which stretches in a square around the balcony and connects to the wall beside the french doors, which I close with the back of my foot.

Peeta stand by the plant, which I see is another primrose. The sky in front of him is a solid black, shaded here with ribbons of midnight blue. Stars glitter in the sky like shards of glass.

I approach him where he stands, laying my hands on the railing and looking out. The garden below is cloaked in darkness. I look up and my heart jumps into my throat. Peeta's blue eyes are sparking in the mute light.

"Thank you," He says, slipping his hand around my waist and pulling me closer. "Thank you so much."

For some reason I'm confused. "Thank you?"

He smiles at me. "Thank you for making this the best day of my life."

I can feel my cheeks burning. "I should've been the one saying that. You're the one that made it all possible."

"No I'm not," he says. "You're the one who asked me; your the one who had the idea in the first place. You're the one I'm sure that I'll love forever."

My mouth parts in surprise. It certainly wasn't what I expect Peeta might say, but it made me feel like my heart was trying to jump out of my chest. "I..." I carry off, trying to think of something to say. I should say something along the lines of "I love you too," except I couldn't. Except something irks me, in the back of my mind, and the words tumble out of my mouth before I'm able to stop them. "Do you think this is a good idea?"

His face falls, and I know I've said the wrong thing. "What do you mean?"

I hurry to fix my question. "I mean...do you think...in the beginning...this was supposed to be for Panem, right?"

"Right," his tone seems almost weary with the mention of the Panem. He looks at me pointedly. "Is that the only reason you did this whole thing? Marrying me?"

"No," I answer slowly. I realized that I was doing this because I wanted to. Panem will always come second from now on. I was done with politics. I want to spend my life with Peeta. I know I may have thought that I was doing this for the good of stopping a rebellion, and maybe that's what eventually pushed me, but if I didn't want to, then I wouldn't have done it. "I wanted to do that...its just..."

He stays silent, waiting for me to carry on.

I find it hard to speak for a moment, and when I do my voice has gone thick. "I'm just...scared." I take a deep breath and hold back the tears that seem to have always been following me since Prim's death.

"Of me?" Peeta asks. He looks horribly sad.

"I'm scared of loving someone...like I love you," I struggle to say. "Everyone I've ever cared about is gone because of me. I just want to be able to spend my life with you without being afraid of you leaving...or worse."

He hugs me to him in one swift motion. "I'll never leave you Katniss. Not for the stars or the sun itself."

I'm glad for his arms around me, otherwise I would have fallen. His words pierce into me, reassuring and passionate. I close my eyes and inhale the scent of him, willing it to stay with me - so that he will always stay with me - forever.

When we pull away at the same time, the wetness behind my eyes has completely disappeared.

I lean into Peeta as we watch the sky. A low issue of music comes from the room behind us, but for now we're cut off from all of the people there. We're two souls, finally connected as one. Even though out here, its easy to get lost in the stars, I feel as though I'll never be alone again.

"Have you talked to Haymitch yet?" I ask. I hadn't seen him in the Justice Building.

"Nope," Peeta answers. "Most likely he's hoarding all of the spirits and is hidden somewhere. We probably won't find him for a while."

I laugh. "He certainly looked happy at the wedding." I say with a sarcastic lilt.

This time its Peeta who laughs. "He was probably just uncomfortable in the suit of his."

There's a strange silence, and then I ask: "Do you think you're parents would approve of us? Together?"

He seems to be contemplating this. "Well, they'd have to deal with it, even if they didn't approve." He grins and at me, and then softens. "I don't know. They didn't have a choice before, but if they got to know you - _really _got to know you - they would have known why they didn't have a choice now."

I roll these words over in my mind. I remember Peeta's mother, who hit him because he dropped bread in the fire by accident. But no, it wasn't by accident. He was doing it because of me.

I sigh and lean closer to him.

After a while, a comet of light streaks across the sky.

"Make a wish," I say to Peeta.

"I don't need a wish." He says, and kisses my forehead. "What are you going to wish for?"

"I-" I'm about to say "nothing", when a deafening shot rings out and the flower pot in front of us explodes. Dirt and shards of ceramic fly everywhere. Another shot rings out, and pain sears through my arm.

The next thing I know, we're both on the ground, Peeta guarding me with his body as several more shots sound. I hear the glass of the door behind us shatter, and more shards tinkle to the ground.

I'm half lying, half sitting with Peeta's arms and body pressed against mine. Even after the cracking sounds are over, there is still a rushing sound in my ears, like a waterfall. My breath comes out in strangled gasps, and a screaming sound begins from a distance. The pain flares in my arm, and the pitch hits a crescendo.

I'm running.

I'm running away from the Gamemakers as fire shoots over my head, catching and spreading over the trees and bushes around me.

I'm running away from the mutts as they chase us through the forest.

I'm running away from the shrill shriek of Prim's scream that comes from the Jabberjay.

I'm running away towards my death. Running away from Peeta, who still has his arms around me.

Then the running stops, and I realize I'm right where I was meant to be.


	8. Chapter 8: The Chase

**Hey! Yes, I am finally back after the Christmas rush…sorry if this is a bit of a late update, and I do feel guilty because so many of you have asked me to update sooner…sorry to those people! I hope all of you had a merry, merry Christmas and a happy New Year! Cheers to a great 2012!**

**Anyway, I think the last update got the most reviews, and for that I also thank you! It's nice to feel appreciated :). **

**Also, this might be the last update for a while. With exams coming up and stuff, I'm going to be really busy. But you never know, I might just have time. **

**SO without further ado, the next chapter! **

After Mockingjay

Chapter Eight: The Chase

It seems, after even the slightest happiness I receive, I never get to enjoy it for very long. Evil sweeps down like an ugly bird, snatching away any chances I have at peace. It's an endless, repeating cycle, unforgiving and terrifying.

It would be an understatement to say that the wedding ended in chaos. After the shots finally ceased, there was a moment of silence where I could only hear my heart, and Peeta's beating furiously and uneven on top of mine. Faint screams started to echo through the air, but they seemed distant.

And then people were touching us, pulling us apart. I grappled to reach Peeta, but the arms were too strong. That was the only part that was as hazy as the beginning of the chaos. I remember struggling, and then a calm voice speaking in my ear: "It's going to be okay Katniss. We're trying to help you."

Madge. Now, I realize that she was indeed trying to help me, as well as Gale, who swept me up in his arms and carried me through the halls of the peacekeeper building. I think I might have blacked out a couple times before Gale had set me down in a soft chair in what must have been the head Peacekeeper's office. Sometime later Haymitch arrived, who quickly delved into what had happened. I listened with rapt attention.

Haymitch explained that the attackers were anti-rebel citizens, who were against the revolution the Mockingjay had created. They thought that if they killed the source of the revolution – meaning Peeta and I – they could start another war, and take over the Capitol again. It would mean that the Districts would become slaves again; and the Hunger Games would start again.

The verdict: we are being hunted.

Thankfully, they hadn't succeeded. Yet. I would live. The bullet had just grazed my arm, thankfully not cutting through any major arteries in the process. Peeta, thankfully, escaped unscathed.

My mother stiches up the wound in our kitchen while Gale explains the rest. I couldn't really remember the trip back to Victor`s Village, but everything that had been told to me had been remembered.

Gale explains that a witness saw the anti-rebels fleeing towards the forest that surrounds District 12. An attack force is being set up, made of all of the rebels that helped take down the Capitol and more some. He says that Peeta and I will be a part of this infiltration of the anti-rebel base, which is somewhere in the meadow.

And that's why I'm standing next to where the gates dissecting the forest from the district were before they were torn down almost a year ago. I'm dressed in something similar to what I wore when we infiltrated the Capitol, and my bow is hanging off of my fingers. My arm throbs every time I shift it slightly, thanks to the wound the bullet made, but I tell no one about my pain.

And even though I want to do this, I'm shaking on the inside.

Peeta stands next to me. Just the image of him standing there, with a riffle in his hands reminds me of the darker days, when he had been hijacked. When the last time he held a gun, I feared for my own life.

But he just shoots me a reassuring smile, one that says, _"It'll be fine. We're safe_."

I try to mirror his smile, but can't muster up the will.

Gale is at the front of the pack, handing out orders. There are fifty of us in total, against who-knows how many anti-rebels. All of them are carrying weapons. Several people hold dogs attached to long leashes. For a moment, I wonder if they are mutts, and if their sense of smell has been heightened by that or not. If so, they don't look any different from regular dogs.

We finally get our order: Stay in the middle of the pack, wait for the signal when we find the anti-rebels, and then move in the flush them out. But always remain in the middle, away from the real danger. We are still too valuable.

We wait as scouts go into the meadow, taking the dogs with them as they scan the underbrush and search for anything that might tip them off. I sway on my feet, and lean into Peeta a bit. I only had four hours of sleep, and most of it was the lucid place between dreaming and waking caused by painkillers. I imagine myself somewhere in the forest, sleeping in a tree like I had in the Hunger Games, always wary of everything around me. It felt like that now, like at any moment I would hear another gunshot, and that would be it.

"You don't have to do this, you know," Peeta says to me, wrapping an arm around my side.

"You don't have to either," I say, stifling a yawn in my throat. "I have to. What do you think people will say if I don't? 'They're scared. They're not really part of the revolution; they get others to fight their battles for them.'" I pretend that I'm reading a newspaper in front of me.

"Katniss," Peeta says evenly, a bit of weariness in his tone. "Everything we do is not being recorded, or taken into bad light. This is the last step before we can enjoy our married life together."

I know he means the last part as a bit of a tease. It makes me smile anyways, even if that smile is weak and tired. "Let's just get this over with. Then you can give me a foot massage."

He smirks, but what he was going to say next is lost by the static call of a scouter's voice coming through on Gale's radio. "We found something!"

"Okay everybody!" Gale says, and motions for all of us to follow him. I spare one last glance at Peeta before we're moving through the forest.

We only have to go a little bit into the forest, before we reach the scouter and his dog. The dog is sniffing and barking at the ground near the scouter's feet, where I can see is a small trapdoor, partially hidden by leaves and branches. I wonder for a moment whether Gale and I could have been standing right on top of this thing the last time we were in here together, and whether they knew if I was there.

I lose sight of the trapdoor as more people crowd around Peeta and I. My fingers clench around my bow when I hear a creaking sound, and Peeta offers me a squeeze of his hand before we're off.

Surprisingly, the others move down the trapdoor fast. In a matter of seconds, I'm climbing a rusty ladder down into packed earth, and jumping down onto compressed dirt. I stand up, my arm aching. But I have no time to rest before I'm being forced on.

When I look around and see the curved, sweeping walls on either side of me, I realize that the anti-rebels had constructed a series of earthen tunnels underneath the forest floor.

With no time to dwindle, I move forwards with Peeta not far behind. The first tunnel is wide; bow strung and ready, I make it halfway down before I see a human being – not one of our own – on the ground, a hole spurting blood in his chest. For a moment I have the crazed urge to wonder if maybe we were wrong, and these are just innocent people – before I see the insignia on his jacket: a mockingjay, like the pin I had, with a strike through it.

Peeta shifts me along, past the person. I swallow the nausea building inside of me and continue.

Suddenly, there are shouts up ahead, followed by multiple blasts of gunfire where the first wave went in. Peeta stops me in my tracks as we listen, hearing people shout; "Intruders! Intruders!" And then more gunfire.

"Come on," Gale is behind us now. "Keep going."

We do. The next tunnel splits into two ways. Gale moves in front and picks the right one, the one that doesn't have the echo of gunfire flowing through the dirt-packed walls.

This tunnel ascends up a carefully crafted staircase, and then splits off into four ways. _They're trying to confuse us_, I think to myself.

A couple of dogs are brought forth, and they each sniff a tunnel. Two of them earn barks; the far left, and the middle right.

"We're going to split into four groups," Gale says. He starts by telling people which tunnel they're going in; ten people for each of the tunnels that must have people down them, and five each for the others that don't seen much of a threat. Me: The far right. Peeta: The middle left.

At first, I start to panic because I don't want to be separated from Peeta. I'm afraid that I'm going to have a panic attack, before I realize that Gale only did this because he feels as though there is no threat in those tunnels, and that we're more safer that way. For my sake, and everyone else's, I hope he's right.

"Make sure you don't get lost!" Gale calls out to everyone. "Mark your tunnel. We'll meet back here in twenty minutes if we find something."

We split up. My group follows me as we start to walk down the tunnel. The sounds of everyone else are cut off, replaced with shuffle of five sets of footsteps as we make our way deeper into the anti-rebel base.

Suddenly, the ground starts to slope downwards. I stop at the top of the descent for a moment, my head almost brushing the ceiling. "Mark off this tunnel," I tell a man from my group. He nods, marks off a space on the wall with a deep indent, and we start to move again.

Time crawls away from me as I descend the tunnel, trying not to let my feet get swept out from under me by the steepness of the ground. I hook my bow across my elbow, and balance myself against the two walls as I walk. Soon, the walls begin to narrow, and I'm hit with a sudden bout of claustrophobia. I have the sudden image of the tunnels collapsing on us, and burying us here forever. I shake the image out of my head quickly, my fear escalating. Finally, the tunnel widens again, and splits into two.

I sigh. If Gale hadn't instructed us to mark our ways, then we would surely be lost in this tunnel. But now I'm faced with a decision; what do we do now?

"Um…do you want to split up again?" I ask, as if it's as simple as asking what kind of sweet they would like.

"I think that's a good idea," a women pipes up. "If we find anything, we can just meet back here in five minutes."

That would work – the only problem is that Gale expects us back in less than ten minutes, and even if we did find something we wouldn't have time to check it out. But it's the only plan we have, so I agree with it.

The women who suggested it and I go off as a team; the other three go off in the other tunnel. _I wonder if this is what they had planned to do_, I think. If they wanted to divide us, to dilute us until we're outnumbered, and then attack.

But there's no use now. The other team has disappeared from sight down the other tunnel. I follow the other women down the second tunnel. We walk for a while in silence, and I imagine what we would find on the other side. A secret base? I wonder and wonder until we come upon a solid wall – a dead end.

"Damn," I mutter, and turn around. "Let's go back."

She nods, and we turn back. The other group is there when we return, all of them shaking their heads. "We just found a room," one of them says. "With boxes in it. We didn't want to touch them."

Wanting to say that defeats the purpose, I just shrug and suggest that we return. They all comply. We begin to follow our marked paths down the tunnels again.

Suddenly, a yell echoes through the ground. Then ringing shots, like small explosions after the shout. I start to panic and move faster. Not because it sounds like they're coming from behind us, but because I have sudden mental images of Peeta getting maimed, shot, or worse.

By the time I careen out of our tunnel, I'm running. I see Gale with another group where we started.

"Where is Peeta?" I ask, my voice rising to a shout over the chaos. People have started to panic, and it must take all their will not to run in the other direction. "Where is he?"

"I don't know!" Gale shouts back. He's panting, looking around.

Another round of gunshots echo, this time down the tunnel that Peeta had gone through. Gale realizes this the same time as I do, and before he can do anything I whirl around and start sprinting down the tunnel.

"Katniss!" Gale yells after me. But I don't care. All I can see is Peeta, on the ground, bleeding. I see him being tortured, even though I know that it's irrational. They have no reason to torture him. A bullet through the head would do the job just as efficiently. Cleaner. Easier.

The breath is puffing in an out of my chest as I run, trying to follow the noises through every tunnel, and only stopping once or twice to listen. The tension builds, and I burst through a tunnel with my arrow nocked, ready to shoot.

The tunnel opens up to a makeshift room. People are everywhere; shooting, fighting, running. I watch as someone drops to the ground in a spray of red.

Then survival mode kicks in. I see a man with the same insignia on his chest as the first person in the tunnels. He's pointing a gun at someone on our side, and I release my arrow before his finger even twitches. The shot goes in cleanly, and he dies in an instant.

I throw myself into the chaos, looking for Peeta among all of the people. I know he is here. I can feel it, in my heart. The question is whether he's still alive or not.

I dodge around a person on my side, and take out another person. My pulse is racing, and my head is pounding with adrenaline. _I can't let them hurt him. I can't let them hurt him. I can't let them- _

I burst into another room, this one larger. And then I see them. Peeta and another anti-rebel, knives flashing. Stunned, I see a flash of red. Peeta's blood.

For a moment everything goes still as I see the scarlet arc through the air. Then I scream, and let the arrow fly into the anti-rebel's skull.

He collapses. I am breathing hard, my chest heaving. All I can see is red, red, red.

I don't know how my feet move, but soon I'm close to Peeta, clutching onto his arm as if it was the only thing that could hold me up. The blood only came from a small wound on his other arm, thankfully. But that still doesn't stop the rushing in my head. And it doesn't help the fact that there are dozens of people fighting in here, half of whom would be trying to kill us any second now.

Then there's Gale, who comes flying to the room, an array of throwing knives glittering in his hands. "Go!" He shouts, and then throws a couple of the serrated blades.

Peeta pulls on my arm, trying to get me to move. I am slow on the uptake. I don't want to lose Gale either.

"Just go!" He repeats. "I'll be fine!"

_It'll be fine_. Almost the same thing Peeta said when we had entered the tunnels.

I open my mouth to object, knowing that this is not the appropriate time to do so, before Peeta yanks me off my feet. "Come on!"

I know he's not being cruel. He just wants to get me out of there as soon as possible.

He half carries me through the tunnels, through the shafts of blackness and into the main entrance before I'm hitting at him, telling him to stop. "Wait!" I yell.

He looks down at me. A mix of crushing concern and fear reflect on his features. But it's not fear at our situation. It is fear of me. I wonder what he thought, when I sent that arrow through the anti-rebel's head without a shred of remorse. Is he scared that I'll start screaming, like I did moments before? I am scared. For that moment, I'm scared of myself, and what I'm capable of doing.

"Okay," Peeta says. "We'll wait."

So we do.


	9. Chapter 9: Panic

**Well, exams are finally over! Now I'm home free (At least until June!). Thanks to everyone who waited; I'll try to update as soon as possible now. **

**Anyways, I would love it if you review :) **

**Thanks!**

After Mockingjay

Chapter Nine: Panic

We wait. We wait for I don`t know how long; whether that be seconds, minutes, or hours, they all blend together in the chaos of the tunnel.

Peeta keeps his arms wrapped firmly around me as we wait. Sometime before we had slid down the wall, and I know sit resting in his lap, my eyes wide and my hands still locked around the bow.

I begin to imagine the worst outcomes possible, and I don't even try to stop myself. I imagine Gale dying, and in a variety of ways. I imagine a bomb detonating, and trapping everyone and everything under the surface forever.

"It'll all work out," Peeta says softly, rubbing my back.

_Right_, I think. It'll work out…._eventually_. It'll work out when all of us get over the trauma. If one of us dies, it will all work out when we forget. It'll all work out when we're dead.

_Maybe that would be better_, I think. No more Mockingjay. No more battles. I would be free.

I shake these thoughts out of my head sharply. If I left, there would be no one. No one to remember how the sunlight streamed through the windows of my old house. No one to remember the smell of fresh bread, especially after a long, hard winter. No one to remember how Prim smiled at me, no matter how less frequent it had been. I still remember it now; bright pink lips, pearly teeth, little dimples on the sides of her cheeks…

I'm suddenly shaken out of my reverence by a loud booming sound that echoes through the tunnel. A second later, the aftershock that blows pieces of my hair off of my face in a wave of sound. Peeta and I scramble to our feet, but already there are people pushing towards us, people in our own infiltration group.

"GO!" They shout at us, panicking. "The tunnel is going to collapse!"

My heart clenches tightly in my chest, and I spring forwards – not towards the ladder, but towards the tunnels. I can't let Gale get trapped here, I think desperately.

But Peeta just yanks me back and picks me up, not even flinching as I flail around to get away. He hefts me over his shoulder and quickly ascends the ladder while I squirm.

Warm sun hits my face when we reach the top. As soon as Peeta sets me down on my feet, I realize that the ground is shaking. He pulls me to cover, dragging me away until I came barely feel the tremor, and then we collapse again. I watch, breathing hard, as people come out of the tunnel. I wait, my hands trembling with anxiety and fear, for Gale to climb out and dash over to us like he should have. But he doesn't come. Even though we are out of the epicentre of the shaking, I can still feel it in my bones, all the way to my core. A rattling that makes my teeth hurt.

Then there is another blast that sounds contained, like if you were to put a stick of dynamite in an enclosed room. The ground seems to roll under our feet – or maybe that's just me – and then everything is silent.

I can't help thinking of the calm before the storm, where everything is deathly still before the lighting cracks and the thunder rumbles. A few people are coughing, trying to clear their lungs of tunnel dust before they regroup again. But we're not a part of that group. We're separated, divided from everyone else. _Please Gale, _I beg in my mind, my pulse racing wildly and my head spinning, _Please come out of that tunnel_.

A few people emerge, coughing and covered in dirt. But no one else. I want to go over there, and scream, _"Why did you leave him? Why is he still down there_?" But I know it will be useless. Peeta rocked me gently in his lap, saying that everything is alright, that it will all be alright. But I know better.

Then, people start to organize a search of the tunnel, to see if there are any more survivors. My heart beats crazily as they plan, but I make no move to join the rescuers. I don't want to know what I'll do if I see Gale crushed beneath mounds of rock. And so the search commences. Ten citizens and three doctors descend into the tunnel again, carrying healing supplies and stretchers.

Finally, when the darkness of dusk hits the sky, he emerges. He's balanced on a flimsy stretcher, all of his limbs hanging limply. His eyes are closed.

I make a weird whimpering sound in my throat and Peeta lets me go. I race over to where two citizens are carrying him through the forest, back to the town. They don't stop when I reach them, so I have to run alongside them as they go.

"Gale…" I say in a strangled whisper. His face is ghostly pale, his eyelids like two bruises. Multiple cuts lacerate his face, and blood and dirt streak his neck.

I'm panicking, and my voice rises. "No! You can't be…" I touch his neck, trying to find a pulse. "You can't be dead Gale!"

A groan issues from his mouth and my heart leaps. His eyes flutter open as I stumble, trying to keep up. Immediately his face twists with pain, and he starts to mumble; "Katniss, I-" He chokes, reaching for me with bloody fingers. "I can't feel…"

"Can't feel what?" I ask, my whole body shaking.

"I can't feel my legs," he says, his voice full of hopelessness and fear. "Katniss, I'm s-scared."

My stomach drops and I can feel tears drip down my face. "It'll be okay," I say, trying to mimic Peeta's reassuring tone, but I just sound like a strangled mouse. "It's going to be fine. Don't be afraid."

His gray eyes seem dead when they look at me, like he's already confirmed his fate. Like he's almost sure that this is the end, and he'll die. "I'm scared." He repeats.

For a moment, I'm scared too. I've seen people like that – who have lost the feeling in their legs due to a mining accident, or a spinal injury. Almost all of them never walk again. I imagine Gale, crippled for the rest of his life. And I know what he'll do if he realizes this. He'll give up.

"Don't give up Gale," I say. "They're going to fix you. You're going to be-"

But I'm cut off as we reach the outskirts of the forest, and I fall behind. I stumble for a bit before standing to watch them carry him into the village, where healers wait. I know my mother is among the ones who will treat the injured, and now I want no one other than her to touch Gale.

_What will I tell his mother, and his siblings? _Just the thought of it makes me sick. _What will I tell Madge_? I think as I stare at Gale's retreating figure. She's probably at her house, waiting for news, wondering if we're all safe. When we`re not. When we probably never will be.

I`m suddenly overcome with emotions and I sink to a crouch on the ground. My mind is racing. What if this isn`t the end? What if we're always going to be hunted? What if we have to hide our loved ones so they aren't used against us? Or let them go?

My fingers stray through the brittle leaves on the ground, trying to find leverage, something to hold on to. I'm slipping away, almost like a ghost. I'll be nothing, remembered by no one except as they girl who was on fire. _What a stupid name_, I think. Fire burns. Fire kills. I kill everyone I touch, everyone who loves me.

_Enough_! My own mind snaps back on me, forcing me to see reason. _You have to be strong! Who will be there for Peeta, or my mother? They will have no one if I leave. If I slip away…_

I don't know how long I crouch there, leaves crunching between my fingers, but when I get up I see Peeta leaning against a tree, waiting. I wonder how long he had been there watching me gain control. He holds out a hand and I take it, his own warm fingers holding tight to mine.

"Let's go home," he says.

I nod. There's no more business here for us. Just thinking about re-entering those tunnels makes my head spin and my stomach lurch.

So we walk home, just the two of us, as the dusk sky turns to night, streaks of colour fading in the darkness. I don't know what to expect next; whether Gale's condition is serious, whether there are any more people out there trying to kill us. All I know now are the shadows that crowd around us and Peeta's warmth, keeping me safe.


	10. Chapter 10: Nightmares

**Hi! **

**Is it just me, or does it seem like everyone on Fanfiction died between Christmas and now? **

**Well it does to me ;) **

**Anyway, thank you for waiting for so long for this chapter. I know I haven't been writing for a while, but life is pretty busy and complicated, so I haven't had much time to actually sit down and type. But here's another chapter, for your reading enjoyment. **

**R&R please! **

**(By the way, HAVE YOU SEEN THE HUNGER GAMES MOVIE YET? AWESOME! But the book was better ;))**

**After Mockingjay. **

**Chapter 10: Nightmares **

For a week after the descent, the dreams hit hard and forceful. Each night brings a new terror to my mind. Each dream leaks fear into my waking life, and slowly poisons everything around me.

A blazing summer hits District 12, scorching the lush green grass, turning it yellow and brittle in the heat. The primroses that Peeta planted so long ago are gone, burned down into short stubs in the garden outside of our house. Everyone is residing in their houses, staving off the sunlight in their cool basements, or in the forest under the canopy of trees.

I have not gone into the Meadow since I left with Peeta, stumbling back home after the raid. After that we both slept until noon the next day, and even then we only left each other's sides to take showers and wash all of the dirt and grit out of our skin.

It was peaceful at times in that moment between dreaming and waking, where I could still feel Peeta's arms around me, and sleep tugging at my insides. But after that I was sucked into a dark hole full of terrors – never-ending. At least until I'm shaken awake by my new husband.

_Husband_. It feels weird to think of Peeta as my formal mate. For so long we had been together – _husband _and _wife_ feel so mundane. Too simple.

But we are the same as we have always been. I move when he moves. He moves when I move. We are like magnets with opposite poles, always together.

Except now.

I slip out of bed before Peeta wakes on a sunny afternoon. We have often taken to the habit of staying up late and staring at the stars out of our window, until we fall asleep.

With a last glance at his arm thrown over the empty covers, I pull on my shoes and tip-toe down the stairs to the front door.

Once I'm outside, it is easier to breathe. Almost immediately after, though, a new terror grips me. I have delayed this visit for too long.

It's torn me up inside to imagine what he must think of me now. The last time I saw him, he was scared. He deserved support. But truthfully, I was just as frightened. And that's what stopped me.

My mother has been staying in one of the houses that have been empty ever since the bombing of District 12. After the raid, she set up a miniature healing centre there, dedicated to bringing the injured members of the team back on their feet.

The house is a big one, with ivy trailing its way up the brick walls and twining around the chimney, which is puffing smoke. The grass is seared, and the broken stones leading up to the front door crunch underneath my feet as I make my way up.

The door opens before I even have to knock. Standing there is my mother, her hair tied back in a scraggly mess, and her eyes rimmed with dark shadows. "Katniss," she breathes, and pulls me inside.

A ravage of smells hits my nose at once. A mix of burning herbs, sweat, and dread fill the air around me like a cloud. I could hear muffled snores and ragged breathing, all filtering through the thin walls.

"He's been asking for you," my mother says as she leads me into the kitchen. "The best medicine from the other Districts hasn't arrived yet, so I've given them herbal tea for the past couple days. Most of them have developed fevers, but nothing too serious." She picks up a steaming mug and totters down a hallway, where many doors lay.

"Are you the only one caring for them?" I ask.

"Afraid so," she stops outside of a gray door. Her face, which has stayed impassive since the time I have arrived changes into despair suddenly. "Katniss," she says, her voice hushed. "When the tunnel collapsed…a piece of rock pinned him and fractured a part of his spine. To attempt to repair…the pain would kill him."

It takes me a couple of seconds to absorb what she's really saying, and before the complete picture shows itself, she tells me.

"He may never walk again," she says, hushed in my mind now, but reverberating like the clang of a clock. "The only hope he has is if the bone mends itself, which is unlikely."

A hard stone has formed in my throat, and for a moment I can't swallow. Panic reaches in me and grabs me with its talons, and my mother realizes this. Before I can have a full blown panic attack, she shoves the mug of steaming liquid and pushes me through the door.

The clang of the wood against the frame barely registers on the surface of my mind. All I can see is the room, and who is in it.

Gale is lying in a small bed, his pale face stark against the bedspread. His eyes are closed, two black bruises on his head. I am suddenly struck by the fragility of him right now, completely motionless and frozen in the doorway.

I force myself to move, to go to him. I kneel beside the bed, cup still clutched tightly in my hand, and stare. He looks bad. _Really_ bad.

A small groan issues from his mouth, and his eyes flutter open. Once those gray irises focus on me, I can feel my heart tripping in my chest.

"Gale," I whisper. Now that I'm faced with him, I have no idea what I'm going to do.

"Katniss," my name is slow coming from his mouth. He winces with pain as he tries to sit up.

Panicked, I force him down and shove the cup of liquid at him. "Here. My mother told me to give you this." My hands are shaking when I retract them. I'm so unsteady that I feel myself slipping into a dangerous place.

He takes the cup, but doesn't drink from it. "I…don't want to sound inconsiderate," his lips twist into a small smile. "But I don't think it will help anything."

If he wasn't in so much pain, I probably would have smirked. Instead, I smooth his hair back from his forehead. My stomach clenches when I notice that he's burning up. "I know." I say. "I just…" I trail off.

He sighs. "Don't beat yourself up. You had to leave me there. It wouldn't have made a difference."

I press my lips together. As much as I feel that it was my fault, I know he's right. There was nothing I could have done about it. "I can't help it," I say. "When you came out of the ground…you looked so scared, and that made me panic." I pause, swallowing the hard rock in my throat. "We're not supposed to be scared anymore. We're all supposed to be _happy_."

My words stumble to an abrupt halt when Gale reaches out from under the covers and grasps my hand.

"I know," he says gently. "But _you_ should be happy. Just think about it," he smiles. "You're a married women now. You have all the time in the world to cuddle up next to your husband and eat bread all day."

I can feel my face growing hot, and I crack a smile. "That's not all he does, you know."

He holds up both of his hands in a surrendering motion. "I don't want to know."

I laugh. The tense moment seems to have been broken up for the moment, but it settles back quickly when my laughter fades from the air.

"I should have come sooner." I say.

He shakes his head. "No." He looks like he wants to say something else, but the words never present themselves.

Gale's eyes grow somber again. "Just to think…that I had all that stuff to do with my life…and now…it doesn't really seem possible."

The stone sets back in my throat. "You'll get better." I say, even though I know it is a lie. My mother even said that he might not ever get better.

Gale shakes his head, a bitter look on his face. "Just to think that I'll never walk again…I'll never be able to hunt with you. I won't even be able to walk down the road." He passes a hand in front of his face, and his eyes go almost emotionless. "It just seems…unreal."

One, thin tears slips down my face and lands on the bedspread silently. I press my palms to my eyes to stop the flow that has already started to come. Hearing Gale's anguish is like having a thousand spears stabbed through my body all at once. It's painful.

The slow creak of the door breaks me out of my moment. My hands drop to see Madge standing there, a small bouquet of wildflowers in her hands.

She stops, blushing, and gives a shy smile. "Hi Katniss." She says. "I…I was just here to see…"

"Right," I say, standing up. It's not that Madge's arrival unsets me – it's the fact that she was probably here dozens of times before I have. It clear that I've fallen short, failed at the one thing that I could give Gale right now – friendship. "I'll just…go."

I glance at Gale before I leave, who give a small smile as a goodbye. The corner of my mouth turns up a bit, but that's the best I could have probably done.

The trip downstairs is a blur. I don't even think I say goodbye to my mother before I sweep out of the front door, and make my way back to the house I share with Peeta. Frankly, I don't even remember the walk home. It was just a muddle of faces and paths, and then the familiar sight of the empty garden in front of the small residence.

Peeta is waiting for me inside. In the concerned look on his face, I see the knowledge of where I went. He knows that I went to see Gale. And he probably knew I would be twice as distraught when I returned.

I'm glad that my eyes are dry when I approach him. We're both silent for a moment.

"How is he?" Peeta asks after a while.

"He's f-" I begin, and then correct myself. "-Not good." I can feel my lip trembling.

He pulls me into an embrace, and I close my eyes. _Don't lose it_. I tell myself. _Everything is going to be fine_.

When we both pull apart, I feel calmer. At least until Peeta reaches past me to pick up something from the table.

A letter.

"This came for you," he says, handing it to me. The thick parchment has my name written in loopy letters on the front, and suddenly I feel dizzy.

"Who is it from?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Open it."

And so I do.

**Just a word before I go – the next chapter probably won't come out for a long time. With exams – **_**exams!**_** – coming up, and everything else, I'm going to be really busy. But I'll try my best. Who knows, I might even surprise myself and finish this chapter before the holidays! **


	11. Chapter 11: Relief

**After Mockingjay.**

**Chapter 11: Relief**

_Dearest Katniss, _

_ First of all, I apologize for the awful display of violence at what was supposed to be an endearing night. I knew I should have hired more guards! Luckily no one was (seriously) injured at the wedding. So far, I know that all of that chaos has been edited out of the footage, which will be aired sometime __next week__! I know – time flies when you've got deadlines! _

_Anyway, all this about destruction and chaos is not what I am writing to you about. Instead, this news is __much__ more exciting. _

_So, after nearly a year of bartering and bantering with Capitol producers, I have finally received the permit to create the new hit show; District Melody! And guess who's going to be singing in the very first episode? _

_YOU! _

_That's right. Mrs. Katniss Everdeen-Mellark will be preforming a self-written song in the new Capitol, to be broadcasted in every district! You must be positively shaking with joy – I know I am! _

_Now that the program is just starting to kick off, it will still be a while before the show is ready to air – but until then, all you need to do is practice that misty voice of yours, and be at the ready for when I contact you next! _

_Hope you are enjoying your newlywed life, _

_Plutarch Heavensbee_

I have no idea what to think after I read the letter. There are multiple swirls of emotion in me – the most prominent one is exhaustion. _Why can't we just be left alone?_ After everything that has happened, shouldn't we get the choice to live our lives as we want to; in peace?

But it's not like I can say no.

Peeta's breath rustles my hair as he leans in and reads the parchment over my shoulder. I feel him sigh when he's done. "Well."

I wait for him to say more, but he doesn't. I let the letter flutter to the tabletop. "Well." I say, grimacing. "I don't really think I have a say in this at all."

"I'm sure it's not as bad as it sounds," he tries to reassure me. "Plutarch often blows things way out of proportion."

I feel my stomach clench, remembering what he said. Singing? In front of the entire country? Being the Mockingjay and doing the propos was enough…but actually getting on stage, and doing something that had brought me comfort when I felt like I had nobody? That's different.

But it's not like I could say no.

I sigh and lean against Peeta, a pillar of warmth and support. I feel drained. Even though I only woke up an hour earlier, it feels like a whole day has passed. I want nothing more than to forget about everything – Gale, Plutarch, everyone – and sleep into oblivion. But I still have to call Dr. Aurelius. It was the only promise I had to keep when I left 13, and really the only reason they let me leave. I have to talk to him every couple of weeks, as a part of my ongoing "therapy". As much as I loathe every session, it does bring me a sort of comfort, in a strange way.

"Come on," Peeta says suddenly, squeezing me tighter before letting me go and moving towards the door. "There's something I want to show you."

"Okay," I say. I can always call Dr. Aurelius later.

He leads me outside, where the sun is shining. We make it halfway past our house when a loud squawk permeates the air.

Both Peeta and I watch as a white goose waddles quickly down the yard of Haymitch's house and the settles in the grass, only to be uprooted when Haymitch himself bursts from his front door.

"Come back here you stupid animal!" He shouts, waving a half empty bottle in his hand. The goose honks against and batters its wings.

"Haymitch," Peeta says. "What on earth are you doing?"

He stops, looking at us with bleary eyes. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm chasing geese."

I look over Peeta's shoulder and spot a pen leaning up against the side of Haymitch's house, full of white fluffy bodies. "Are you _breeding_ them?"

"Maybe," he says, taking a swig of his bottle. "But they get out sometimes."

Peeta shoots me a look. "Are you sure that's sanitary?"

"Come on," I pull on Peeta's arm. Surely now Haymitch has gone off the deep end. "Let's leave him to his business."

"I named that one Sir Flanagan!" Haymitch points to the goose grazing in the grass a few feet in front of us. "Come back Sir Flanagan!"

I finally manage to pull Peeta away, and when we're finally out of earshot, he starts to laugh.

I smile and then let him lead me. We step past the border of the forest and keep going, until the trees start to become lush and green. The time flies away as we make our way over small creeks and past giant boulders, until Peeta pulls me to a stop in front of a thick bush.

"Close your eyes," he asks, and I do.

He leads me around the bush and over the forest floor, until I feel the ground become flat. He lets go of my hand, and I open my eyes.

The first things I see are small wooden planks nailed to a large tree, the trunk at least twenty feet in diameter. The second is the structure built in the nest of branches, balancing sturdily on a twine of leaves.

My mouth falls open. The small building is made out of dark wood, with a piece of cloth hanging down that made a makeshift door. The roof is partially open. There's a bridge that connects the crude porch to another, smaller tree with a platform on it.

My hand goes to my throat, my emotions twisting inside of me at this display. My heart beats at a triple pace, and I barely see Peeta move up beside me.

"Amazing, isn't it?" He asks. "I'm actually pretty proud of myself."

Before I know it I've thrown myself into his arms, overcome. "You did all of this for me?" I ask, astonished. I can feel tears prick at the corner of my eyes.

"Yes," he says. "I read about people constructing houses on the tops of trees, and I thought I'd try it out."

My lips wobble. "I…I don't know what to say." It's amazing, spectacular, and words are completely unnecessary. So I have no idea what to do.

"Come on," he takes my hand again and pulls me to the big tree with the wooden steps. "I thought you might be able to climb this tree already, but I'm not as skilled as you, so I made steps."

I quickly pull myself up the slats and onto the deck of the house in the tree. Peeta follows and pulls back the curtain, revealing the small room. A blanket has been laid down on the wooden floor, and there are a couple of rough chairs and a table in the corner.

"Look," he says, and points up.

I tilt my head back. It was afternoon when we left, so it's close to nightfall now. I look past the walls of the tiny house and up to the sky above, which is painted a palate of sunset. The exact color that Peeta described was his favorite, back when we were on the Victory Tour.

"Wow," I say, wanting to spend another moment looking at the sky, but I can tell that Peeta is excited and he pulls me through the door again, to face to bridge. We both cross to other tree with the wooden platform, where I find my bow and a sheath of arrows balanced against the trunk.

Peeta picks up the sheath and lifts it over my shoulders, where it rests and hands the bow to me. Then he points to a space across the clearing, where I can vaguely see a rotation of targets nailed to various trees of different height.

"This is your shooting range," he says, taking an arrow out of the sheath and helping me nock it. I can feel his warmth radiating through my back as I pull back and let the arrow fly, where it sticks in the center of the red-painted target with a thunk.

I am overwhelmed that he'd do all of this for me. How long had it taken to make? How had I not known that he was building this, when I had been sitting at home doing nothing? Only one thing is for sure – it's incredible. And there, standing a dizzying height off of the ground, I can feel our hearts starting to beat in sync.

"Well?" He asks softly as I let my arms drop from my shooting stance and turn to him. "Do you like it?"

I answer with a kiss.

**I cannot express how sorry I am for such a late update. It's getting harder and harder to stick with this, you have no idea. Well, I suppose you do. **

**I hope you liked this chapter. And remember, keep reading! **

**Anyway, in that between-time writing this chapter from the last, I developed a new Hunger Games story – it's called **_**Reaping Angels**_**, and it's a brand new story set in the Hunger Games world. Please, please, **_**please**_** go check it out. Here's the link s/8393853/1/Reaping_Angels**

**And please, please, please review! **

**Here's hoping to see you again! **

**-Laura **


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